Women Don’t Owe You Pretty by Florence Given – The Feminist Wake-Up Call I Didn’t Know I Needed

There are some books you read, enjoy, and then promptly forget about. And then there are books that kick down the door of your brain, unpack years of internalised nonsense, and demand that you rebuild your entire worldview. Women Don’t Owe You Pretty by Florence Given was, for me, the latter.

I picked this up thinking it would be a light, fun feminist read—maybe something I’d nod along to and occasionally highlight in pastel. Instead, this book grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, shoved a mirror in front of my face, and said: "Hey, babe. Let’s talk about why you don’t actually love yourself as much as you think you do."

And let me tell you, I was not ready. But I needed it. I needed every single page of it. This book was like the older sister I never had, the brutally honest best friend who tells you the truth even when it stings, the therapist I probably should start seeing. It made me re-evaluate the way I saw myself, the way I saw other women, and the way I moved through the world. So, let’s unpack this, shall we?

Before I read Women Don’t Owe You Pretty, I would’ve confidently told you that I had a pretty solid relationship with myself. I took self-care seriously (expensive skincare and aggressively curated Spotify playlists), I knew my worth (only let men with decent taste in music waste my time), and I understood feminism (thought saying “I’m not like other girls” made me edgy). But Florence Given held up a magnifying glass and made me really examine the way I viewed myself. And what I realised? My self-love was deeply conditional. I loved myself when I looked good. I loved myself when I was productive. I loved myself when other people validated me.

But what about the days when I felt sluggish, when my hair didn’t cooperate, when I wasn’t accomplishing anything particularly impressive? Those days, I found it harder to be kind to myself. And Florence made me realise that this wasn’t self-love. This was just another form of perfectionism disguised as confidence. One of the biggest wake-up calls was when she said that women are conditioned to see themselves as something to be looked at, rather than someone to be. And wow, did that hit home. How many times have I taken a picture, zoomed in to analyse every flaw, and then decided whether I liked myself that day? How many times have I put on an outfit and thought, How does this look to other people? instead of Do I feel good in this? This book made me realise that I had been performing my existence rather than living it.

And that changed everything.

Okay, let’s be honest—most of us have, at some point, been a little judgemental of other women. We might not have meant to be. We might not have even realised we were doing it. But it’s there, buried in the way we’ve been taught to evaluate, compare, and compete with each other. Florence Given doesn’t just call this out—she drags it into the light, shakes it, and tells us to let it go. She talks about how we’ve been conditioned to see other women as rivals rather than allies. And I felt exposed. Because, deep down, hadn’t I been guilty of this? Hadn’t I side-eyed a woman and thought, Ugh, she’s so full of herself instead of Wow, good for her? Hadn’t I felt a tiny, shameful flicker of satisfaction when a woman I envied had a bad day? Hadn’t I, at some point, believed that another woman’s beauty, success, or confidence somehow took away from mine?

Women Don’t Owe You Pretty made me realise that this was just another way the world kept women in check—by making us feel like there was only room for one of us at the top. And that’s complete rubbish. After reading this book, I made a conscious effort to unlearn all of that. Instead of silently judging women, I started hyping them. Instead of seeing another woman’s success and feeling like I had to “compete,” I started cheering her on. Because when one of us wins, it doesn’t mean the rest of us lose. There is infinite space for us all to thrive. And let me tell you, the moment you shift your mindset from competing with women to celebrating them, life becomes so much brighter.

Loving myself after reading this book meant more than just bubble baths and treating myself to overpriced iced-lattes (though I will absolutely continue doing both). It meant setting actual boundaries. It meant saying no to things that drained me without feeling guilty. It meant letting go of the need to be palatable, likeable, or “low maintenance” just to make other people comfortable. One of my favourite takeaways from this book was the idea that I do not exist for anyone else’s convenience. I don’t owe the world beauty. I don’t owe the world politeness at my own expense. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for the way I live my life.

The most radical thing I can do is exist as myself—fully, unapologetically, and without shrinking.

If you’ve ever struggled with self-worth, if you’ve ever felt the pressure of beauty standards weighing you down, if you’ve ever compared yourself to another woman and felt like you weren’t enough—this book is for you. It’s empowering. It’s bold. It’s a little uncomfortable in the best way. It will absolutely call you out, but only because it wants better for you. And when you turn that last page, you’ll walk away with a new perspective on yourself, other women, and the world.

And honestly? You deserve that.